The Apartment
by Ash M. Knight
Summary: The Joker, Jack, goes home to his boyfriend's apartment. Joker/Riddler. Slash.


It was late when I finally stumbled up the stairs to Eddie's apartment, and there weren't many lights on, at least that I could see. I was expecting him to be in bed, but I was surprised to find him flinging open the door with playful grace as my fit hit the top step. The apartment was ritzy to say the very least. Everything was perfect and clean. He kept saying how he wanted to paint it green, but his landlord wouldn't let him. Personally, as much as I liked green, too, I liked it the way it was. I'd never been anywhere so spotless in my life, except maybe Wayne Manor and Zach's house.

Now, that's not to say it was cluttered. Of course, it was. After all, this was Eddie we were talking about. What I mean is that every white wall was impeccably clean, perfectly pure, like the pearly gates of heaven. I mean, I guess, sometimes it creeped me out. It was so damn bright in there. But he made it his own with all his spotless bottles and and things. He had this one wall near the kitchen with bottle after colorful bottle, all lined up on the shelves. In the light, they were sort of glowing. It was really neat, and it definitely brought some color into the room. The big screen TV in the living room was also completely dust free, and boy, did he love that thing.

But Eddie wasn't the type of guy to pick up. He was the type to clean. I was sort of... neither. His room had piles of stuff everywhere. Books, magazines - mostly porn - and everything else you could think of. He even had this awesome matchbox car collection, all lined up on a shelf. Sure, he was organized - if you think that organized just means being able to find everything. His collections were all neatly in rows, and his dishes and things were all put away, but any sort of toy or item of entertainment could surely be found on the floor somewhere. The controller to his playstation 3, along with the game console, was strewn across the living room floor. His sheets were kicked off his bed, spread all over his bedroom. His nightstand had glasses and pens and paper all over it. Nothing that wasn't important was where it seemed it should have been.

It sort of made me feel at home there with him, all the clutter. My room was cluttered and dirty, though, so having everything so damn clean kind of put me off sometimes. Other times, I liked it. It made me feel... I don't know. I guess, safe. But thank the Lord he never had to set foot in my house. I'm not even sure if my parents owned a vacuum. Frankly, it was gross. Luckily, I had a pet peeve about my sheets always being clean, but other than that, the house was pretty much disgusting ninety percent of the time. Eddie's apartment was like... I guess... well... Had there been no cluttered, it would have made me a little uncomfortable. Bruce's room always had a ton of toys and stuff all over it, at his own house and at his new adopted place of lodging, so that made all the neatness bearable. Without all the stuff in a room, I felt kind of exposed. There was too much attention on me and not enough on whatever else was in the room. With Eddie, there was plenty of stuff to sort of hide behind. You could get lost in all of it.

When he met me at the door, I was surprised to see him so chipper. His face was grinning, beaming down at me as he dragged me through the front door and slammed it shut with twitching, excited fingertips. "You're home!" he squealed, jumping into my arms. Of course, I caught him, but I wasn't looking at him at all. I was scanning the room. What in the world had he done to make himself so happy? New porn stash? I found nothing, and he broke into my thoughts, crashing through the windows of my intellectual house to exclaim, "You worked hard today! I can tell."

I guess I blinked a few times, 'cause he was staring. "What?"

"You're acting funny..."

"I... has a present!"

He bounced out of my arms, his light red-brown hair bobbing up and down a little since he hadn't gelled it that day. Before I could protest, he was scampering off down the hall and flinging open the closet door.

"I has a present!" he repeated, peeking out at me from the around the door. "Come here."

I frowned. "You know I hate presents..."

"I promise you'll love this."

"You couldn't possibly promise that."

"I can! Come here!"

I finally broke into a laugh and reluctantly dragged my feet over to him. "But take your boots off!" he finished, seeing me start for him with mud dripping from my shoes. I complied, tossing them back over by the door before I made any more tracks over the nice, clean carpet.

When I reached him, he tugged my wrist hard until I was in his arms, and then I felt something smooth, heavy, and warm surround me. I looked, and was far, far from horrified. "Oh my GOD! Really? Eddie, really?" He nodded, beaming. When I pulled the black leather jacket on completely, he screamed, his hands cupping his own face in a dramatic pose of excitement. "What...? Does it look stupid?"

"Oh, my God. You... look... so... hardcore. It completes you. Really, it does."

I laughed, tossing my curly locks a little. He loved it when I did that, and I knew it because his hand was sliding through my hair in a moment.

"Go out with me tonight. I want to show you off."

"Oh, Eddie, come on... Please, don't make me. You know they'll be there and I really don't want to see them, okay? Can't we just..."

"Stay home?" he finished for me, a smirk devilishly spreading over his lips. His spotless hand rested on his spotless wall, just under his spotless picture frame, and I laughed. "What? What are you laughing at?"

"You. You're just... Kodak moment."

He laughed too and closed the space between us with his body, sliding his hands up over my chest. "It suits you. It really, really suits you."

"Thank you," I breathed, looking down and apparently looking embarrassed.

"You're... You're red, Jack."

"I'm flattered," I confessed, looking up and resting my forehead against his to gaze into his sharp, impish blue eyes.

"It's late," he finally realized, gazing over at the clock. "You should be in bed."

"I need to shower," I sighed, rubbing my index finger and thumb together, feeling the grease and grime grind between them. "I'm disgusting."

"You worked hard. I can tell," he smiled. He was the only person who ever really noticed or cared how hard I worked. My paycheck certainly didn't show it, but I guess the rest of me did. I was dirty, from head to toe, and he actually appreciated it. "I'll take you out to lunch tomorrow, okay? You deserve it. I'll be Saturday, and you worked hard all week."

"Eddie, I have to work tomorrow..." I blushed, feeling the shame and guilt surface in my face as I looked away from him.

"Oh," he sighed, sounding hurt. "That's... That's okay.. I'll... I'll just..."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't," he said, his eyes actually turning red. I couldn't believe he was actually about to cry over me! "It's fine. Come on. Let's just go to bed."

"I have to shower," I repeated, gently but firmly pushing his eager hand away.

"Jack!" Eddie whined, suddenly throwing himself into my arms and gripping my shirt tightly in his hands. "Don't... please... I haven't seen you all day. We've both been working. At least come lay down with me for a while..."

"I'll come lay down with you after I shower."

"Jack... please..."

I sighed as I pushed his hands away with a little less tenderness. "All right. Okay. Let's go."

When he finally fell asleep with his head on my chest, I gently shifted his head onto the deep green pillow, smoothing his hair, and slid out of bed. He must have been tired, because he didn't even wake up when I turned the water on in the bathroom.


End file.
